A Family Homecoming (16 page)

She cried for Sara and all the frightened days and nights the child had spent while kidnapped. She cried for herself and those same terrible days and nights of being alone and in terror for her child.

She cried for all the sweet tender moments of the
past and for all the ones that wouldn't be part of their future.

And most of all, she cried for them as a family, for the memories they would always have, for the times she and Kyle would meet as strangers who had shared an intimate and passionate past…at Sara's graduation, at her marriage, at the birth of their grandchildren.

“Dani, don't,” she heard Kyle say.

She felt his hands on her shoulders, then the touch of his body as he turned her and held her. She tried to stop, to control the rush of tears, but they seemed to come from a bottomless well.

“Shh,” Kyle said, soothing her as he would young Sara. Worry ate at him. He'd never heard Dani cry like this. She got teary-eyed in movies, but he'd never heard her sob, had never felt her body shake. “Don't cry. It's okay. It's okay now. It's over.”

“I cuh-cuh-can't stuh-stop,” she said. She hid her face in her hands, as if embarrassed for him to see her tears.

“Okay, I can handle that.” Quietly stripping out of his now damp clothes he stepped into the tub with her and pulled her closer into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest. He rubbed the back of her neck and discovered a lump where she'd been struck. “Cry then. I'll hold you until it's over.”

She kept her hands over her face as she wept. The water hit his head and shoulders, splashed over them. Her grief seemed endless, more than an emotional release from the terror of the attack. He worried about that, about this sorrow that seemed drawn from her soul. The dark pit of his soul churned restlessly.

But no expression of grief, no matter how deep,
can last forever. When she finally quieted, he lathered his hands and gently washed her. He shampooed her hair and recalled how he'd once loved to do that. Her hair was like holding dark flames in his hands. They had taken all their showers together early in their marriage.

When had he let the wonder go out of their marriage?

By the time he rinsed them both, the water was rapidly turning cold. He turned the faucets off and urged her from the tub. She looked so weary and she stood quietly and let him rub her dry. Her eyes were downcast, and she never once looked his way.

Goose bumps swept over them both when he led the way across the hall and into the bedroom. He held her nightgown while she slipped it on, then he buttoned it all the way down. When he was dressed in clean sweats, he took Dani's arm and ushered her toward the family room.

Sara was in her room, wearing a pair of Dani's high heels and holding a pink-and-gold magic wand in her hand when he looked in on her. She was singing a song. He sighed in relief. Their daughter was going to be fine.

Once he had Dani on the sofa, he built a fire, then turned to study her face. She looked drained.

The way he felt. It was the usual aftermath of intense strain, he could have told her. The danger and emotional shock of death and all that went with it took its toll on a person.

He'd been lucky. He'd had her to come home to. She'd been his light, his guide out of the darkness.
She'd filled his soul with warmth and given him peace.

What had he ever given her in return?

 

Danielle rinsed the mop and stored it in the mudroom. The house was clean, really clean, once more. Over the weekend and most of the week, there had been a steady parade of law enforcement officials and reporters, and a few friends who dared brave the mob, in and out of the house, tracking mud and snow all over.

Sara had gotten quite used to being the star of television and radio until she and Kyle had put their collective foot down on any more interviews. The latest thing—and she still didn't believe it—was the President, yes,
the
President, wanted to give her some kind of award for her quick thinking, according to someone who'd called an hour ago. Someone also wanted to use Sara in an ad in which various serious scenes were enacted—fire, unconscious adult—while Sara advised kids to call 911 for help when trouble brewed.

Danielle wanted to help other families, but she wasn't sure about the added publicity. She'd had enough and wanted life to go back to normal.

Right. Like the past two years?

After removing a pan of brownies from the oven, she sat at the table and mused on the week's events. Then her mind drifted into a hazy state where she didn't think at all. She liked that best. Life was easier if she didn't think.

Hearing Kyle's truck in the drive, she roused herself and cut the brownies, then stored half in a plastic
bag and half in the cookie jar. She put the brownies in a bag she'd packed along with a wrapped present.

Sara had wanted Danielle to sleep in her room after the bout with the kidnappers. She had moved back to the big bed in there for the past few nights. Kyle had stayed in the master suite. Tonight Sara was spending the night with Jenny and they were going to a birthday party the next day. Jessica had suggested it as a way to get the girls' lives back on a normal track after the tensions of December and January.

Danielle glanced at the calendar. Saturday, February the thirteenth. She smiled slightly. If the date had been Friday, the thirteenth, she would have insisted that Sara stay locked in the house with her all day. She didn't want to tempt fate into sending more bad luck.

“Mommy, we're home,” Sara called out, rushing into the house ahead of her father. “It's snowing. We have to hurry.”

Danielle interpreted that to mean Sara was anxious to get to Jenny's before the roads closed. One learned early to be aware of the weather in Montana. Sara was excited about visiting her friend. There was a surprise waiting for her at Jenny's, too.

Wayne Kincaid had cleared it beforehand. He and his wife, Carey, were having dinner with the McCallums. They were going to bring the female puppy for Sara and give it to her there. Jenny was so excited she could hardly stand keeping the secret.

Such good friends. Tears suddenly filled Danielle's eyes. She blinked in embarrassment.

Kyle followed his daughter in, closing the door behind them. He stored the milk in the fridge.

“Ready?” Kyle asked.

His face was flushed from the cold. His eyes were the deep-blue of mountain lakes in the summer. Her gaze locked with his for the briefest instant. She looked quickly away.

“Yes. I have Sara's bag packed. There are brownies inside, so don't toss it around,” she warned Sara.

“Oh, yum,” Sara exclaimed.

Danielle envied her daughter's ability to seemingly bounce back to normal. She still felt drained inside. She had a strange ache in her heart, too, as if some unseen weight rested there, pulling her down….

“How about we go out to dinner after we get rid of the pest here?” Kyle suggested.

“I'm not a pest,” Sara told him, not the least indignant or offended. “I'm a hero.”

“And you haven't heard the latest,” Danielle murmured to Kyle when Sara pranced off toward the door, her duffel bag banging along the floor.

“Be ready when I get back.” There was a question in Kyle's voice.

She nodded. Going out to dinner sounded like a good idea. They wouldn't be alone in the house. Until later.

Watching the other two leave, she considered her decision. She wasn't going to move into the master bedroom with Kyle. The danger was over. It was time for him to go.

She was giving him up.

He would grow to hate the desk job. And then he would grow to hate her for holding him back. She had thought it all out. Now all she had to do was carry through.

The heaviness beat at her. She would learn to live with it. Maybe it would grow lighter with time.

She went to the bedroom and pulled out a pair of flannel slacks and tossed them on the bed. A pair of black knit, clingy leggings caught her eye. She hesitated, then removed them from the hanger and put the flannels away.

After selecting a black sweater and a thigh-length jacket with black and gold threads, she showered and dressed quickly, aware of time passing.

She blow-dried her hair and added a few touches of makeup, plus the gold earrings and a chain that had been her first Christmas present from him. She'd just stepped into dressy loafers when she heard Kyle enter the kitchen.

“I'm ready,” she called.

His smile was quick, but solemn as he looked her over. “That's one thing I always liked about you—you never keep a man waiting.”

“Or a woman,” she told him. “My mother said it was a courtesy from kings and a necessity from everyone else.”

He led the way to the truck which he'd left near the door, engine running. “It's getting colder. We're supposed to get another ten to twelve inches of snow tonight.”

“And there's another front behind this one.”

“We'll be snowed in until the end of June this year if this keeps up.”

She thought of a long winter snowed in with him, just the two of them in a cabin far removed from the rest of the world. A foolish fantasy. She'd never had
him to herself like that. She'd never asked for or expected it. All she'd wanted was….

His love?

His undying devotion?

No, his presence. At fairly regular intervals. He couldn't give her that, and she couldn't live in the lonely marriage of the past two years.

So she would let him go.

Instead of taking her to the local diner, he drove out to the highway where more upscale establishments catered to the tourists as they left Yellowstone. He wheeled into the lot of an expensive steak-and-seafood house and parked. The sign out front said there would be dancing with a live band at nine o'clock.

Nine. Huh. With a five-year-old getting up at the crack of dawn, nine was close to her bedtime these days. She smiled faintly.

“What?” he asked. He leaned across and opened the door for her.

“Sara. She's going to be so excited about the puppy. She and Jenny will talk half the night, then get up at dawn. I'm glad Jessica has them and I can sleep in.”

He paused before removing his arm from across her. His mouth was close to hers, his eyes near enough that she could see the dark-blue outer circle and the lighter shade near the pupil. “You could use the rest,” was all he said.

Before she'd hardly slid out, he was there, his arm extended. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and let him lead her inside.

The restaurant was dark and intimate. Candlelight
gleamed on pale-green linen and real silverware. The host seated them in a snug corner near the fireplace. Kyle ordered kir royales—a concoction of champagne and fruit liqueur—for each of them. She'd first had them on her wedding night.

A fitting goodbye—candlelight and champagne, all done with quiet elegance and style.

The ache in her chest intensified.

Their dinner was leisurely. She enjoyed it to the fullest—as if she were a prisoner at her last meal. As the evening flitted by, her eyes were drawn more and more to him. She couldn't look away. She wanted to devour him with her gaze until every nuance of his was a part of her.

Their last date. She wanted to remember it.

The music changed. Glancing around she saw a small combo on the stage. The leader introduced the men while they kept up a steady throbbing tempo of chords. They started with a fast tune.

“Come on,” Kyle said. “You always liked to dance.”

“All societies do,” she informed him. “There's something about music and rhythm that appeals to all people in all parts of the world.” Then she was embarrassed at how like a librarian she sounded.

He grinned at her and she felt heat rush to her face.

She hesitated, but he was already on his feet, his hand out to her. She joined him, but she was worried. It didn't seem wise.

But the beat was engaging and worry faded as they twisted and twirled. Kyle's dancing was as good as his singing. He had a natural grace on the dance floor that brought more than one envious glance her way.

The music changed to a slow beat without a stop. For a second she worried, but when Kyle took her in his arms, his hold was casual, not sexy at all.

She relaxed and let the music take her.

Gradually, the light dimmed even more and spotlights threw rotating multicolored beams of light over the floor. And somehow she was cuddled against his chest, his chin touching her forehead lightly. She wondered if this was wise and lifted her head to gaze at him.

The tables had turned, she realized, her breath catching in her throat. His eyes devoured her.

She couldn't look away. In those fathomless depths were every dream she had dared to dream. In his arms they had all come true. If only love were enough…

A gentle wind blew through her. It scattered wisdom and caution and blew worry like dust before it. The wind grew warmer…hot….

Kyle moved her arms around his neck and embraced her with both his behind her back. His hands roamed her back, slipped down her waist, paused at the curve of her hip, then retreated to her waist. His chest lifted and dropped in a sigh that seemed to blow through her, too.

Their bodies meshed in remembered ways, old but always strangely new. The warmth spread through her until it centered in that secret woman's place deep in her. Her breasts peaked. Her blood throbbed.

Hunger ran like golden sunlight through her. Needs she had fought sprang around her, a meadow of wild-flowers, ready to spread their pollen on the wind. The ache shifted and resettled as her body clamored for the release she knew she would find in his arms.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek on his shoulder. This night…this last night…

They stayed for an hour, then left as the place grew crowded with other couples. The snow was still falling as they made their way to the house.